


like a blue sky in your head

by shepherd



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Make up sex, Making Up, World of Ruin, a little mini sequel to chapter one of my other fic you're a man now boy, a tiny bit gladio meta, sexy sad boy gladio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 03:48:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19715623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepherd/pseuds/shepherd
Summary: Ignis slid their cheeks together, delighting in the smooth against the bristles of unshaved hair. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”“Thinking,” Gladio said and left it at that.“About?”“Everything,” he confessed, and everything was the weight on his defeated shoulders.





	like a blue sky in your head

**Author's Note:**

> It's my birthday and I'll post angsty, fluffy, smutty excuses for Gladio meta if I want to!
> 
> also! a tiny sequel to chapter one of my fic you're a man now, boy!
> 
> also also! don't worry the next part of keep your head above water is coming!

One hot, dry hand framed Gladio’s face, and it brought him back down to a reality that was something more than simply them. It steadied him, guided him, and Gladio could count every pale eyelash as he faced Ignis dead on. No more quick glances. No more staring at the bridge of his nose. Just crow’s feet clear around those damned eyes and his lips swollen and pink. The sight of it made his entire body ache, his heart and his eyes and his stomach, faced with the prospect of both the past and their future within a single glance.

“Look at me,” Ignis murmured. He tilted his head to one side and his expression was clear even as his eyes were cloudy. “What’s wrong?”

Gladio exhaled softly. Even in the darkness he felt like he couldn’t hide. “Nothing.”

“Gladio,” Ignis repeated, and he sat up. In the moonlight that came through the window, the silver necklace that rest between the hollow of his collarbones no longer gleamed. It needed upkeep. Perhaps, when this was over, Gladio would say another _I’m sorry_ with a good clean. “Talk to me, please.”

It felt wrong to talk like this now. Their minds had been so far elsewhere after their long day apart. Ignis’ fingers on Gladio’s shoulder were soaked with lube, their cocks hard and wet, and Gladio wasn’t one to frankly speak with his heart at the best of times. It wasn’t that he didn’t like honesty. But the anxiety seemed to be part of him now, the fear that through all of this, the rolling with the punches and standing against the unknown, Gladio was constantly fucking up where it mattered the most. Heading out of town and killing whatever stalked his people was easy. Sitting down and talking about how that made him felt was tough. Tough enough, without his dick hard and Ignis naked before him.

He looked away again, unable to stand it, but Ignis’ fingers were determined. As if he knew, long fingers pinched his cheeks lightly, turning him back to face him dead on, and Ignis smiled at him softly. Small, a little sad, but it was better than any alternative. “Please don’t turn away,” he said quietly. “Not now.”

So close against him, Gladio was weak. He sagged, a puppet with each string cut at once with no fanfare, and his forehead rest against Ignis’. He closed his eyes. Each of Ignis’ breaths billowed out against Gladio’s lips, warm and almost reassuring. “Sorry,” he said for the thousandth time that evening, and it was all he could say.

They were here again. Gladio swore that no matter what, no whatever what he swore or the truths he tried to run away from, they would always end up here. In the quiet of some bedroom off the side of some road, all equally nameless, and the awkward but beautiful thing between them that Gladio cherished would have a name again. Sometimes Gladio broke it with sharp words. Sometimes Ignis did with thoughtless acts. But they brought it back together. Had done for damn near a decade, crawling towards their thirties bloodied and beaten but for the promise of another night with Iggy, Gladio would stay on his knees for good.

Gruff as he was, there was little Gladio wouldn’t do for Ignis. No matter how steaming mad he got he saw sense in the clearing, anger cooling off, and even if it was hard to recognise he knew Ignis would always feel the same.

“Don’t be,” Ignis told him, and kissed the corner of his mouth as firmly as he dared. Gladio’s lips parted on instinct but they didn’t meet. He allowed Ignis’ hand to slide around the back of his head, fingers sliding into the mess of hair Gladio had neglected to groom. Ignis slid their cheeks together, delighting in the smooth against the bristles of unshaved hair. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“Thinking,” Gladio said and left it at that.

“About?”

“Everything,” he confessed, and everything was the weight on his defeated shoulders. It was the words he couldn’t bear to speak. No one could hold up the world forever. His father had tried. The king had tried, the marshal still tried, and when surrounded by determined men Gladio had drawn in the arrogance of humanity for himself. He was younger, he told himself. Maybe they didn’t believe in the cause enough. Any excuse had Gladio scrapping, determined to be the very best, even when his body was mortal and his fear eternal and every day, he faced defeat and disappointment.

Not even Titan could bear all that weight forever. That was the hardest part to recall. Gods died, as did kings, and so would they when all was said and done. Mortal hands could only cling for so long.

Ignis laughed in the quiet. Every other soul around them slept on, exhausted. That should have been them. They had busy days always but when they were together again neither of them were one to waste time. Evening hours were precious and their dreams were all too often dark.

“No small feat, then,” he teased, but the wet hand on his shoulder slid down, along his shoulder blades and the muscles of his back, tracing the hard edges. He stroked Gladio carefully, soothingly. It worked and sent a prickle down his spine, that dimming flame of arousal in his belly coming back for just a sparing moment. “I’m sorry.”

Gladio’s own hands wandered. They had been against the softness of Ignis’ side, one against the hard edge of his hip, and his cock still dug into his belly. Gladio pulled him closer, seeking his heat and every inch of him, the scarred and the smooth. Ignis hummed in response, pleased. “It’s not your fault.”

Lips pressed against his jaw. They peppered sweet kisses all along the length. “I know. And this isn’t your fault, either.”

 _Isn’t it?_ It never felt that way. Gladio could go through the darkened days easy, too distracted to think of the awful glow of the crystal and the ichor that stained a hollow man’s face, but the nights were a different matter entirely. Dreams where he reached for Noctis’ desperate hands were never far. Gladio preferred to sleep on concrete floors than blanket covered beds – others deserved that privilege far more, and the cold kept him awake, kept him distracted. The moment Gladio became complacent was the moment the worst dreams struck.

It was easy to serve a platitude. Gladio had heard hundreds of them from family and friends. But they never stuck and never would. A shield should never splinter, and Gladio had splintered at the very first strike, bringing shame to himself and agony to others. Ignis had been far more fitting of Gladio’s titles, a man of far greater honour, and Gladio’s touch felt sullying, offensive. A man who failed to keep the ones he loved safe didn’t deserve them. And yet, Ignis slipped into his bed each night, always eager. On the nights Gladio felt the least admirable, the least worthy of love, Ignis was flush against him.

Perhaps Gladio should have let go. If the decade past had made anything clearer it was that Gladio was a fool. A weaker man than anyone knew, in body and mind and plagued by doubt and strife. Ignis deserved better. Noctis and Prompto deserved better. Gladio had failed them all. He had snapped at them, laid his hands on those who he loved most and hated himself for it. Even if they held him close without hesitation and sworn their forgiveness the darkness never budged. His weakness was theirs. His fury was their pain. But letting go was something he couldn’t bear.

“It’s not your fault,” Ignis repeated, nudging for recognition and response. He pulled away, sightless eyes seemingly studying Gladio’s face and he was beautiful, earnest and eager, and the moment soured when Gladio still stood fast. That expression faltered and Ignis knew he could only sigh. “One day, you might believe me.”

That day was not soon. Gladio wondered if he might die with that weight, no matter how long it took. But then Ignis shifted, moving from sitting with his bare legs splayed to kneeling, dragging his hands along Gladio’s chest to push him back. Uncertain but unwilling to argue, Gladio quietly obeyed. They ended with Gladio settled on his back, Ignis’ hands drifting down the flat expanse of his belly and shifting to kneel over his thighs. Not for the first time Gladio felt wholly vulnerable. Ignis was waxen in the faint light. All those scars and bruises along his body stood stark. Ignis held all the power in the moment.

“Ignis,” he said, and stopped. There were no words to follow. And Ignis just smiled, leaning down in order to give him a proper kiss, the kind that was in all the movies. The kind that said _I’m sorry, I forgive you, I’m with you, I love you,_ all at once, and it brought Gladio to tears. They came unbidden and impossible to stop, to his eternal shame, and Ignis kissed each of them away carefully. He stretched out across him, chest to chest, heart to heart, and suddenly the evening was no longer so cold.

“Gladio,” he replied, plainly and easily, the way Ignis always did. But he wore that little quirked smile, just like the Ignis from all those years ago, the playful way he let himself be sometimes. It was warming. Inspiring, even, and Gladio’s own hands reached up to cup Ignis’ softer cheeks. Even as he cried he kissed him. He stroked over Ignis’ brows and jaw sweetly. Gladio made certain to be gentle, each move exaggerated and modest, their lips moulding together carefully but firmly. Ignis tasted like salt, the memory of Gladio’s cock on his tongue and neither of them protested as Ignis shifted, sitting on Gladio’s core, letting that cock nudge between his legs. It had flagged considerably, and Ignis hesitated. “Ah,” he murmured, and Gladio’s face became hot with the embarrassment. “We don’t have to… we can sleep, if you prefer.”

“No, no,” Gladio shook his head and ignored that burn. It was nothing a firm hand couldn’t fix. Tonight Gladio wanted every inch of him, his softest and hardest parts, the quickening of his breath and the way he insisted on being held close after they fell, uncaring how sweaty they had become. “I want you.”

“We can find time in the morning.”

“Is there ever really time?”

A small laugh bubbled up from somewhere in Ignis’ chest. “No,” he admitted, and then Ignis reached down and took hold of him. A wet hand, warm and sure and he stroked from root to tip, expression focused on breathing close to silent. While he could no longer watch for the smallest shifts in Gladio’s expression he could listen intently for each hitch in his breath. Ignis was sure and careful, twisting his fist the way he knew Gladio liked.

It wasn’t long before Gladio was covering his hand with his own. He squeezed cautiously. “I’m ready, if you are.”

Ignis nodded. One last stroke and he let go, his tongue running over his lower lip, leaving it damp. As he moved to prepare himself Gladio’s eyes locked on to that face. That face, handsome and sly no matter what expression it wore. He was beautiful a decade ago and would remain beautiful in the decades hence. Despite everything, Gladio couldn’t wait to see it.

“I love you,” he said, thinking too much while barely thinking at all, and as Ignis paused, Gladio posed perfectly between his legs, the moment frozen. But then time resumed with thawing warmth, a pleased grin forming on his lover’s lips.

“And I love you,” Ignis returned, and then sank down to join them, leaving the rest to be forgotten.


End file.
